Some flowers from my boy away— Sweet roses for my "Mother's Day"! I try to paint their loveliness But, in despair, I must confess My hand has never had the power To portray truly such a flower. For God alone can tint each hue. I cannot make the picture true. His hand can give the touch divine, Completely lacking this of mine. Elusive beauty—fragrance rare— They touch my heart. I breathe a prayer. I ask of Him, Who can create What I can only imitate, That, as we pattern after Him, The likeness may be true, though dim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EACH AND [OR, IN] ALL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE HIGHER GOOD by THEODORE PARKER AGE IN YOUTH by TRUMBULL STICKNEY SONNET TO NIGHT by JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE WRITTEN IN BUTLER'S SERMONS by MATTHEW ARNOLD SOLUTION OF THE CHARADE IN THE MUSEUM FOR OCTOBER by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |